Dumbledore and the Muggle
by Finn'sFolly
Summary: Dumbledore finds an unlikely companion in a young Muggle. RATED T- Due to homosexual themes. There's no sex in this story, nor is there any implied sexual activity. It's just a story about love and friendship.
1. Chapter 1

Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights belong to JK Rowling

#

Albus Dumbledore very much enjoyed people watching. He particularly enjoyed watching crowds of Muggles bustling about simply because of the sheer number of them. They came in such diverse varieties: stuffy ones, eccentric ones, loud ones, timid ones. Dumbledore's favorites were the young mothers with small children. He loved the looks of wonder and excitement on their little faces. There were some similarities between them and Hogwarts' first year Muggle-born students. Everything magical is so new to them. They're in awe of themselves and everyone around them. But first years are not babies. First years have learned to be at least somewhat cautious. There are always those who throw caution to the wind, but still; they are not babies.

The little Muggle toddlers dashing to and fro have no concept of danger, no understanding of bad things. They let their excitement run free and their feet carry them where they may, leaving their poor footsore mothers running behind them.

Dumbledore walked leisurely around his favorite market, stopping to buy candies, most of which he gave to nearby children. He normally spent most of his time walking the center of the market, but today he chose to stroll about the fringes. His watchful eye caught site of a very handsome young man of approximately thirty walking a large number of little dogs. Two of these dogs, mongrels by the looks, were barking and jumping at passersby and getting the other dogs overly excited.

Dumbledore smiled to himself; it was an amusing site. He had seen many a handsome young man strolling around and within the market over the years. He admired their youthful beauty and let them pass by to disappear into the crowd. There was something different about this young man, however, some indefinable quality that drew Dumbledore's attention. The fact that the young man was very blond wasn't lost on him; Dumbledore always had a soft spot for blonds. He lingered a moment, watching the young man wrestle with his unruly dogs before deciding to talk to him. He was far too young for Dumbledore, but a friendly chat was a harmless activity.

"Good morning," said Dumbledore, but the young man didn't hear. He was stooped over trying to quiet the dogs. Dumbledore extended his hand over the two furry offenders, and they immediately quieted and sat. The young man looked up.

"You _must_ teach me that."

"I'm afraid it's a natural gift," replied Dumbledore, "one that can't be taught."

"I understand, proprietary knowledge and all that," replied the young man. His voice was light and gentle; a perfect complement to his features. "It's a wonderful trick, though. Thank you." He gathered up his leashes, which were all in a tangle, and ushered his little charges forward.

"I say," said Dumbledore, "you wouldn't mind a little help, would you?" The young man turned and caught Dumbledore's eye. He was hesitant. "That was very forward of me. I do apologize."

"No, no, you needn't apologize. It's just that I'm a bit overly cautious. I'm new to the area, you see. I would very much like your help. My name is Adam, by the way. I would shake your hand, but…" Adam lifted his hands; they were practically obscured by the tangle of leashes.

"My name is Albus," said Dumbledore as he began untangling Adam. It took several minutes to get him free. They split the dogs evenly; five for Adam, and five for Albus.

"What an unusual name. I don't believe I've ever met an Albus before." Adam smiled at Albus; a beatific smile. "That's much better. My hands were beginning to tingle from blood loss."

They exchanged small talk as they strolled back to Adam's flat.

"I'm an artist," declared Adam. He and Dumbledore were taking the lift to the top floor of Adam's building. "So I rented the largest flat in the building. Everyone else on the floor is elderly, so they've elected me to be the community dog-walker, errand boy, and general handyman. I don't mind, though. It's good to have a steady routine. It's just that when one works at home, others seem think one doesn't work at all. It's not their fault, though. They're getting on in years, and they're all alone. All they have is each other and these old dogs. Some of them have no family, and others are ignored by their family. It's sad, really."

They stopped, one by one, at each door to give the dogs back to their owners. The last two, the two rowdy ones, belonged to Mrs. Peabody.

"Mrs. Peabody is a bit deaf, and a bit of a grump," warned Adam. "She really only likes her dogs." Adam pounded heavily on Mrs. Peabody's door and shouted her name. "It takes her a few minutes to get up."

The door opened just a crack, and Mrs. Peabody peered out looking a little confused. She mumbled incoherently.

"It's me, Adam. I have your dogs."

Mrs. Peabody closed her door with a bang and unlatched the security chain to let Adam and Albus in. She called her dogs to her, making it difficult for Adam to unclip their leashes, which he set down on the table by the door. She sat on her couch in front of a blaring television, with her dogs resting happily on either side of her. She never seemed to notice that the men were in the room. There was some trash strewn across the floor that the dogs had apparently chewed before Adam took them out, signaling an overturned garbage can in the kitchen.

"Give me one moment, Albus. I just need to tidy up a bit."

Dumbledore offered his help and followed Adam to the kitchen. They quickly put the previously discarded items back in their rightful place. "I didn't notice this earlier. I'm so glad Mrs. Peabody didn't slip on any of it. She's not very steady on her feet." Adam ran a wet cloth over the floor before washing his hands.

"We're leaving now, Mrs. Peabody," shouted Adam. "Is there anything else you need before I go?"

The woman shushed and waved at him to be quiet. Adam waved his hand at Dumbledore to follow him out rather than attempt to shout over the tele again. He and Dumbledore exited to the hall. "She's not all there, you know." Adam tapped his forehead with his index finger. "That's all the dogs back. Thank you for the help. Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?"

"I'd love to."

"Excellent, I'm just up the hall here."

Adam's flat was surprisingly spartan for an artist. Dumbledore had expected an overabundance of shapely colorful clutter, but the room was shockingly austere. It was quite large, just as Adam had said. There was a fair-sized kitchen, a small dining area, and a small living area with two small couches and two chairs arranged in a rectangle around a modest coffee table. The entire space was flanked by tall curtain-less windows. The greater portion of the flat was used as a workspace. There were paintings and sculptures everywhere, all in various stages of completion. Behind all of the art pieces were two doors, one led to Adam's bedroom and the other to a washroom.

"Please, make yourself at home. I'll just put the kettle on."

"Do you mind if I look at your art?"

"Oh, please do. There's nothing an artist likes better than to show off his work."

Most of Adam's works were comprised of people gathered in intimate groups: children playing ball in a park, men playing bowls, young women at an outdoor café. Adam was also a people-watcher. His work clearly showed formal training. Dumbledore noticed some religiously themed work interspersed with the more secular depictions. A plain unadorned crucifix hung on the wall above Adam's bedroom.

Adam handed Dumbledore a large mug of tea. "I'm primarily a sculptor, but I've found myself painting a great deal lately. Did you see anything that you like?"

"Yes, all of it."

"You're being too kind."

"Not at all," said Dumbledore. "I'm genuinely impressed." He noticed a small gold cross around Adam's neck and remarked upon it.

Adam took the cross between his fingers as he spoke. "I know a lot of people think it's superstitious nonsense, but it means a lot to me and to my family. Would you like to sit?"

"I would."

They sat together on one of the small couches that faced the art studio, but instead of facing the art, they turned to face each other. "I'm sorry I don't have a tele or anything. I'm easily distracted so I try to avoid anything that will keep me from my work."

"I don't mind at all. I never watch a tele. I'm more the bookish sort, and I do dearly love good conversation."

"I've been told that I can talk a good deal when sufficiently prompted, but I can't promise that the conversation will be interesting."

"I'd be happy to get the ball rolling." Dumbledore spoke of his position as the Headmaster of a very exclusive boarding school. He spoke of his hobbies and interests, and was careful to use terms that a Muggle could understand.

"Alchemy?" declared Adam. "You certainly are a serious history buff. That's quite a complex subject if my memory serves."

"It is. Are you familiar with the topic?"

"I recall a vague explanation of it as part of my required studies, but I never did any investigation of it on my own."

"It's a fascinating subject, which I'll speak of in more detail at another time. Right now I'm more interested in your story."

"I earn my living as an artist, as you can see. I was schooled in some of Europe's finest universities, so I'm fairly well traveled. I returned to my family home for a few years after school, but my sisters made things a bit difficult for me—unintentionally, of course. I have four older sisters: Evelyn is the oldest, then Margaret, then Ellen, and my favorite sister, Adelaide. We call her Ada. They're all much older than me, and they just can't accept that I've grown up. So I thought it best to put some distance between us, and I came here. I hated to do it. I adore my sisters, but one must live one's own life."

They conversed with such ease that they talked into the evening. Their tête-à-tête was disrupted by an urgent rapping at the door. Adam's neighbor, Mr. Bennett, was concerned for Adam's health.

"Oh, Mr. Bennett, do come in. You needn't worry; I'm fine. I've got company." Adam made introductions, and Dumbledore rose to shake Bennett's hand.

"I'll not stay, Adam," said Mr. Bennett. "Thanks for the invite, but I've got my dinner cooking. Little Lady's needin' a walk if you've got the time."

"I'll be over presently." Adam walked Mr. Bennett back to his flat across the hall. He apologized to Dumbledore when he returned. "I'm so sorry; the dogs completely slipped my mind. I must get them walked."

"I would love to join you. Perhaps we could get some dinner after. I know a lovely quiet place with the best desserts."


	2. Chapter 2

Dumbledore woke early the next morning in a particularly good mood. He had a full schedule. His first duty of the day was an unofficial meeting with the Minister of Magic, but his mind was already thinking of the weekend when he'd see his new Muggle friend again. The young man was like a candle flickering in a dark room—instantly familiar and instantly comforting.

The week dragged by, but Dumbledore suffered through it. He rose before dawn on Saturday and impatiently counted the minutes before he could apperate to Adam's building. He chose to apperate into a rarely used alley across the street, as he feared that suddenly appearing in front of Adam's door might frighten his neighbors. It was best to assume the habits of the Muggles and use the lift. There was a note on Adam's door when Dumbledore arrived, telling him that Adam would be late. Adam returned before Dumbledore finished reading it.

"I'm very sorry, Albus. Mr. Clarence is ill, and I had to dash out to the chemist to refill his medications."

"I do hope it's nothing too serious."

"He's been up all night vomiting, and I've been trying to do up the laundry. Mr. Bennett's with him now. Personally, I think he should be in hospital. All this vomiting must be a strain on his weak heart."

"I could come back another time, but I would prefer to help."

"Mr. Bennett and I could use another set of hands."

The flat was very warm, no doubt to soothe the occupant's arthritic bones. His little dog was nowhere to be seen. The odor of illness was pungent and overwhelming. Mr. Bennett exited his neighbor's bedroom with a cup of tea in one hand, and leaning on his cane with the other.

"He won't take a thing, Adam. Hello again, it's Albus, isn't it?"

"Hello again, Mr. Bennett, I've come to offer my services."

"He's been sick again. If you could help Adam change his bedclothes, I'd be happy to wash him down."

Adam pulled a load of fresh bedclothes out of the drier, and Dumbledore followed him with a basin of hot water and a rag for Mr. Bennett. They rolled the poor man as gently as they could. He wasn't difficult to move as there was very little weight to him. Dumbledore had difficulty estimating the age of Muggles, but the gentleman looked to be in the region of ninety; a great age for a Muggle.

With his bed linens changed, his dirty linens in the wash, his medication given, and a wash-down from Mr. Bennett, Mr. Clarence fell asleep and Adam and Dumbledore were free to walk the dogs. Mr. Bennett stayed behind while Adam collected the neighbor's pets.

"There's one missing," said Dumbledore.

"Oh, yes," replied Adam sadly. "Mr. Clarence's dog, little Fifi, she passed away on Tuesday. He was inconsolable. I'm sure it was grief that triggered this illness."

They walked the dogs more quickly than usual and returned to another mess. Mr. Clarence now had a raging fever, and Adam phoned for an ambulance. He was taken to hospital and Adam followed to speak to a doctor about his condition and medications. Mr. Clarence didn't rouse. Adam and Dumbledore returned home in time for the dogs evening walk.

#

By the next weekend, Dumbledore found himself escorting Adam and his neighbors to the funeral of Mr. Clarence. It was a dreary rainy day. All of Adam's neighbors were in attendance except for Mrs. Peabody, who was too frail and too confused to join them. Adam had spent the week running to and from dry cleaners with suits and dresses and picking out flower arrangements at the florist's. Mr. Clarence's grandchildren oversaw the funeral services. No tears dampened their faces. Many of them repeatedly looked at their wristwatches during the service. The only tears that were shed came from the poor man's neighbors and one estranged sickly sister.

Adam and Dumbledore had lunch together after the services. To be specific, Dumbledore ate while Adam stirred a cup of tea that he didn't drink. They sat opposite each other in a window booth. Adam looked out at the rain pouring down on the empty pavement. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He dabbed at his nose with a white handkerchief.

"I don't know how you can eat, Albus. I've never been able to after a funeral."

Dumbledore set down his fork. "I've been to many funerals, Adam. More than I'd like to recall. One thing I've learned from them is that it does no good to forget one's own needs. Nothing good ever comes from self-deprivation." The waitress arrived and put two slices of pie on the table. She looked at Adam with pity and nodded silently to Dumbledore, who pushed one slice of pie over to Adam. "A sweet indulgence is the best remedy for sadness."

Adam picked at the pie, commenting on how good it was, but never finished it. "Did you see those awful people looking at their watches?"

"I did."

"So disrespectful."

"Drink your tea while it's hot, Adam. Cold tea won't chase away the dampness."

#

Dumbledore enjoyed Adam's company despite the mournful occasion. It was the first of many as one by one the little dogs succumbed to age, and their owner's broken hearts sent them following after their beloved pets. By the anniversary of their meeting, only Mr. Bennett and his little mongrel dog, Cherish, remained. Their Saturday meetings stretched to include Sundays, and then Friday evenings, and occasionally a few days through the week. Right now they were sitting at an outdoor table enjoying some pie and people watching.

"Oh, what a pretty girl, do you see her, Albus?"

"I do. I've seen her many times since she was a little girl. How quickly they grow up." They looked on as a boy of about sixteen watched the girl from behind a rack of clothes. "It seems she has an admirer."

"I wonder if he'll pluck up the courage to speak to her. It looks like he just might. He's fixing his hair and straightening his shirt. Now he's checking his breath, that's always a good thing to do."

"Indeed."

The boy stepped out from behind the rack, stopped and swallowed hard. The girl turned around to greet a friend and the boy disappeared again. "Oh, no, he's lost his nerve."

"He best not wait too long or someone else will catch her arm."

"I hate to be a party pooper, Albus…."

"Ah, dog-walking time again."

"I'm afraid so."


	3. Chapter 3

After a bit of renovation, the empty flats were rented out again to young professionals, who always seemed to be in a rush. Adam didn't care much for any of them. They reminded him of Mr. Clarence's grandchildren. He and Mr. Bennett felt isolated and spent a great deal more time together. They were united in their dislike for the newcomers. Adam's and Dumbledore's tête-à-tête's had expanded to include Mr. Bennett, whose health was in noticeable decline.

Adam had become very close to Mr. Bennett and regarded him as a surrogate grandfather. The man's poor health was a great source of stress and worry for Adam. He bought walkie-talkies to use in the event of an emergency. Mr. Bennett thought he was overreacting, but Adam's caution would prove well-guided. Early one morning, Mr. Bennett fell trying to get out of bed. He managed to reach his nightstand and use the walkie-talkie to call Adam, who phoned an ambulance after checking on him. Mr. Bennett had bruised his hip, and his cane was replaced with a walker. Adam spent the next week sleeping on Mr. Bennett's couch. Not one of their young neighbors called on Mr. Bennett.

Adam was busily making dinner when Mr. Bennett's son and daughter-in-law arrived. They entered without knocking as the younger Mr. Bennett had a key. Adam heard voices and exited the kitchen. He introduced himself. Only the young Mrs. Bennett acknowledged him. The younger Mr. Bennett looked at Adam as if her were a pariah. Adam felt self-conscious.

"Will you be staying for dinner?"

"No, thank you," replied Mrs. Bennett, looking nervously between Adam and her husband.

"It's really not a bother…."

"What's the matter with you, Dad, letting a pervert in your flat?"

"Now, Jamie, I don't want you startin' anything!"

"Stay calm, Mr. Bennett," said Adam.

"Shut your mouth, poof! You stay away from my father!"

"Jamie!"

"It's alright, Mr. Bennett, I'll leave. You just relax. I'll turn the stove off before I go."

"You're not gonna do anything, except leave!" Jamie grabbed Adam's arm and threw him at the door. Adam hit his shoulder against the doorjamb.

"Jamie, stop it!" Mr. Bennett tried to rise without his walker.

"Don't get up, Mr. Bennett," shouted Adam.

Jamie grew bolder when Adam didn't fight back. He grabbed Adam's shirt-front and punched his face repeatedly. Cherish began barking and bit at Jamie's leg. He kicked her out of the way. Mrs. Bennett tried to calm her father-in-law. He fell backwards onto the couch, clutching at his chest. Mrs. Bennett screamed Jamie's name. The urgency in her voice drew his attention away from Adam. He rushed to his father's side.

"It's okay, Dad. Jean's phonin' the ambulance. Stay with me, Dad."

Adam was momentarily forgotten. He snatched up Cherish and fled to his flat.

When the paramedics arrived, they thought it was Adam who needed their attention. He was pacing the hall, biting his thumbnail. His face was swollen and bloody, and his shirt was stained with dried blood. He didn't get a chance to direct them anywhere as Jamie Bennett rushed out to collect them.

There was a bit of a scuffle as the paramedics tried to move family members out of the way to get to their patient. Questions were asked about Mr. Bennett's medical history and medications. The younger Bennetts couldn't answer them.

"Excuse me," said Adam, "I can answer your questions." He stood anxiously in the doorway of Mr. Bennett's flat.

"You get out!" shouted Jamie. "You're the reason they're here! Get out!" He rushed at Adam, but was blocked by one of the paramedics. The two paramedics working on Mr. Bennett fired questions at Adam. He answered each in detail. He knew the names of all of Mr. Bennett's medications, their dosages, and the times of day they were taken.

Adam stepped aside to let the paramedics through with the stretcher. The third paramedic still blocked Jamie from getting to Adam. "You can press charges on him, you know."

"It was just a misunderstanding," said Adam. "He's distraught."

#

Dumbledore had always been isolated by his genius. Between his magical skills and his profound intellect, it was Dumbledore's genius that was the greater burden. Some people fear a powerful wizard, others respect him. But a genius is always inscrutable, and people never fully trust what they don't understand. To most people, he was incomprehensible, an enigma, almost god-like. It made him feel very lonely. Gellert was the only other one whom he could truly open up to. Dumbledore had hoped that one day the young Tom Riddle might become a confidant, but the young wizard's genius was dark and deadly. Dumbledore wasn't surprised that Riddle became an enemy of his, but he was sorely disappointed.

He was certain that to find a true companion, to find true happiness, he would have to find his equal—until he met Adam. By no means unintelligent, Adam was certainly not a genius, but that didn't matter. They connected on a more basic level, an emotional level. They were so alike that genius, or the lack of it, didn't matter.

Dumbledore wished he were younger. A handsome young man like Adam would no doubt prefer his own kind, not an aging man like Dumbledore. "Still," thought Dumbledore, "one can dream." They could easily share a life together, given a wizard's greater lifespan. But Adam was a Muggle, and there were prejudices in his community that didn't exist among wizards. Dumbledore couldn't leave his world, not with the threat of the upcoming war that Tom Riddle was nudging ever nearer to. Adam would have to choose between his Muggle world and a magical world that he wouldn't understand or belong in. It would be a cruel choice to force on him, so Dumbledore remained silent and kept his feelings to himself.

#

Mr. Bennett removed the oxygen mask from his face so he could speak.

"You shouldn't do that," said Adam, holding the man's free hand.

"I need to tell you something."

"It can wait until you're better." Adam tried to put the mask back on Mr. Bennett's face, but he pushed Adam's hands away.

"No, it can't. I'm sorry for what my son called you."

"It doesn't matter."

"And you shouldn't be ashamed of it."

Adam paled. "I don't know what you mean."

"It's too late for me, but you can learn." Adam averted his eyes. "Yes, I'm like you. My good wife never knew. She was a good woman and a good mother. I treated her the best I could, but my heart belonged to someone else. It was wrong to live that way; it was wrong to lie to her."

"Marriage is a holy sacrament. What you're suggesting…the other thing…the Bible forbids it."

"How can love be a sin, Adam? Forget the Bible for a minute and think rationally about it. Genuine love is the most wholesome thing there is. How can it be sinful because it's between two men instead of a man and a woman? Except for being able to make babies, there's no difference."

"You're talking nonsense," said Adam sharply. "Put your mask back on."

"Don't waste your life in a loveless union while longing for someone else. Tell Albus the truth. I've seen the way you look at him. Tell him before it's too late." Mr. Bennett had begun to wheeze and cough. Adam agreed to his requests just to calm his agitation. The man settled, looking content, and was asleep before Adam left.

Mr. Bennett died that night. His family never told Adam. He arrived the following morning with a bouquet of flowers, and was told by a nurse that Mr. Bennett was gone. Adam was not permitted to attend Mr. Bennett's funeral, and the flowers that he sent were returned to him. He placed them on Mr. Bennett's gravestone after the family had left, and told his departed friend that he'd care for Cherish.

Albus had been such a blessing. He arrived the morning after Mr. Bennett passed away, his arms laden with candies for Adam and treats for Cherish. Adam cried on his shoulder for most of the day and well into the evening.

Cherish was the one piece of Mr. Bennett that Adam had left. The clever little thing had stayed quiet while Adam told Mr. Bennett's son that she'd run away. He went to church after the man had left and lit a candle. Adam prayed over it, asking to be forgiven for having told a lie. It was wrong to tell lies, but he did it with Cherish's best interests at heart. Jamie Bennett hated that dog, and would only have done something horrible to her. Taking Cherish away from Adam was just a way of punishing him more, a way to be cruel without physically harming him. Cherish was the reason Mr. Bennett lived alone instead of with his son. Adam just couldn't let her be thrown away like a piece of garbage.

The gray-muzzled mongrel lay in her heated orthopedic bed next to Adam's couch. She was listless and heartbroken since her master's death. She and Adam grieved equally. Mr. Bennett's passing had left Adam a great deal more time to work. He poured his grief into it, and finished four paintings in a week. He fixed a bowl of food for Cherish and set it beside her water dish. Both bowls flanked her bed, which she rarely left. She didn't eat much anymore, but Adams kept coaxing her.

"Call me in two hours, Cherish, and we'll have our walk."

Adam sat down to work on his newest sculpture. He sang hymns to himself that he'd learned as a child. He was so engrossed in his work that he lost track of time. He stopped to rub his eyes and realized that the room was much too dark. The sun had begun to set.

"Why didn't you call me, Cherish? We're very late." The dog was more accurate than an alarm clock. She always barked at the door when it was time to go out. She still lay in her bed, and she didn't respond when he spoke to her. "Cherish?"

Her body was still warm when Adam placed his hand on her, but she was gone. She'd left him, and he didn't get the chance to say goodbye. He cried for her, and he cried for Mr. Bennett. He prayed for the old man's soul and for his own soul because Mr. Bennett had been right about him. It was true that he was attracted to men. He had been all of his life. When Adam was a boy, he thought he was just going through a phase that would pass, but it never did. This inclination was his burden; his cross to bear. It was the test if his soul.

He sat on the floor next to Cherish's body, weeping uncontrollably. He lifted his head to wipe his eyes, and realized the awful thing he'd done. He looked from his unfinished sculpture to his newest paintings. His blood turned to ice. He hadn't realized while he was working on them, but now that he saw them with fresh eyes, he could see that the inspiration for each of his new works was Albus. His sinful nature had taken over. Oh, the shame! Sin had won the battle he'd fought so hard against.

"Albus must never know!" Adam rose and destroyed his sculpture. He gathered up his new paintings, took them to the cellar, and burned them in the furnace. Albus was waiting for him when he returned.

"Good heavens, Adam, whatever is the matter?"

"It's Cherish. She passed away just a little bit ago."

"I'm so very sorry." Dumbledore put his arms out, but Adam backed away. The reaction was very unlike him. Dumbledore resisted the urge to use Legilimency on him. It was an unfair advantage that he'd resisted taking since first meeting Adam.

"It's alright, I've phoned for her body to be taken away. Mr. Bennett had a plot picked out for her in the pet cemetery."

Adam was acting quite strangely. He refused to meet Dumbledore's eyes. It was obvious there was more going here than just grief. "That Jamie fellow hasn't been back, has he?"

"No, of course not." Adam paced a little, eyes still downcast, then reached for a broom to sweep up the remains of his sculpture. "Albus, I've been thinking about something. I've been thinking very hard. I've decided to become a priest."

"What?" Dumbledore was nearly bowled over by the sudden startling revelation. "Why? Why now?"

"I know it seems sudden, but I've always had an interest in Theology. I do have a degree in it, as you know."

"There's a cavernous divide between having an interest versus a lifetime of dedication." Dumbledore's tone was a little harsher than he'd intended.

Adam's tone was equally harsh. "Don't try to talk me out of it, Albus. My mind is made up."

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"So soon? Why did you not tell me earlier?"

"I thought it would be best this way. Goodbyes are so dreadfully awkward."

Dumbledore's voice was quiet and despondent. "I just wish I'd had more time."

"Oh, it'll be alright. We'll still talk occasionally and write to each other. It'll be fine." Adam sounded as if he were comforting himself instead of Albus.

Their parting was quick, and Adam's manner was much colder than usual. Dumbledore wondered if he'd offended Adam somehow. Perhaps his admiration for the young man's beauty was too obvious, and had made Adam uncomfortable. Apologizing for his behavior might make a tender issue even more so. Some things are best left unsaid.


	4. Chapter 4

Adam spent the night packing his things. What he couldn't easily pack, he gave or threw away. He returned to his sister Ada's home and consulted his priest about his options. He applied to complete his seminary education and was quickly accepted.

#

Dumbledore felt sad and a little bit angry when he returned home. He felt betrayed, but he knew he had no right to feel that way. Adam was not his; he was his own man, able to make his own decisions and free to go where he pleased.

His much beloved weekend diversions ended too abruptly, sending him into an emotional tailspin. Dumbledore would now have to content himself with bi-weekly letters from Adam, which turned into monthly communications as soon as Adam was appointed to his first post.

Adam was sent to some out-of-the-way village to educate children. He enjoyed his teaching duties very much, and remarked repeatedly about how satisfying his work was. He quickly found a favorite; an orphaned girl whom Adam thought to be impressively bright. At Adam's reiterated request, his superior found a boarding school for her to attend. It was at a considerable distance away from Adam. He was saddened to see her go, but he felt satisfied in knowing that he'd helped secure a better future for her.

Adam's second post was at a poor under-staffed hospice. He was very unhappy in this post. The residents reminded him of his friends at his former residence. He lamented their passing, especially Mr. Bennett's, but it wasn't his place to complain. It was his duty to obey, and he did what he was told to the best of his ability.

Adam's letters abruptly stopped. Dumbledore spent several days and nights pacing the floor of his office. He was in a quandary as to whether he should investigate the matter. He'd just made up his mind to visit Adam when an owl dropped a letter on his desk. It had been mailed in England, and was written in an unfamiliar and hurried hand.

_Dear Mr. Dumbledore,_

_I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of bad news. My dear brother, Adam, has departed this life, and gone on to join our beloved Mother and Father. _

_I must keep this letter brief as I'm pressed for time making funeral arrangements and contacting loved ones. The details of Adam's memorial service are included on a separate sheet._

_I do hope you will be able to attend the services, as I would very much like to speak with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Adelaide Lovett_

Dumbledore immediately penned a reply that included his condolences.

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The day of Adam's funeral was a beautiful Spring morning; bright with sunshine and birdsong. Dumbledore attended the viewing. The services would be held later at the gravesite as per Adam's wishes. He introduced himself and shook the hands of each of Adam's sisters and their husbands. All four women were quite lovely, looking very much like their brother. Adelaide had the gentlest manner of the four.

Dumbledore approached Adam's coffin with great reluctance. His feet felt like anchors. Had he not been told who had passed, he would never have believed the body lying so serenely still was Adam. He was almost unrecognizable; only his light blond hair gave his identity away. He died a young man in his mid-thirties, but appeared easily thirty years older. His face was drawn and etched with deep lines. Dumbledore stepped away quickly before losing his composure. He felt a little dizzy and inhaled sharply. He hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath.

Adelaide requested that Dumbledore stand next to her during the services. The sisters, all flanked by their husbands, remained stately and composed until the coffin was lowered into the earth and disappeared from view. Handkerchiefs were dug out of pockets and purses and rapidly passed around. The great crowd of nieces, nephews, extended family members, and friends began to wail and cry as if on cue. It was a black mournful scene that tainted the glorious beauty of the day. Dumbledore could take no more and tuned to leave. Adelaide caught his arm.

"I haven't forgotten what I wrote to you, Mr. Dumbledore. I do wish to speak with you. Adam asked that I return all the letters you wrote to him. I have them bundled up. You should expect them by the end of next week."

"Thank you. Might I ask what exactly happened? I was under the impression that Adam was in good health."

"So were we. In fact, the doctors that treated him didn't know what was wrong. One of the priests that worked with him phoned me. My sisters and I went to him immediately. We'd intended to bring him home for treatment but…he didn't make it." She pulled a letter from her purse. "He requested that I give this to you. I should've mailed it, but I thought it more appropriate to give it to you personally. Adam was very, very fond of you."

The envelope was addressed simply, 'Albus.' Dumbledore's face was streaked with tears, and his eyes burned. It took several deep breaths before he was able to speak. "Thank you for this. Your brother was the most selfless, the most generous person I have ever known."

Adelaide began to cry. She placed her handkerchief over her mouth. Her husband put his arm around her shoulder and nodded to Dumbledore. They walked away to join the rest of their family. Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts. He removed his Muggle clothing and wrapped himself in dull grey robes. He sat at his desk, palms flat on it next to Adam's letter, staring at his name emblazoned in shaky inky scrawl on the envelope's face. He waved his hand over it. The enveloped opened and the contents slipped out. A handwritten letter unfolded itself and lay open before him.

_My Dearest Friend, Albus,_

_I don't know what condition I'll be in when this letter reaches you. I hope that I will live long enough to read your reply—if you send one. This is difficult for me to write, but I know my time is short. I can't depart this life without a confession to cleanse my soul. I have told no one but God what I'm about to write in these pages. I hope that both you and He can forgive me._

_I know that my choice to join the priesthood was a great shock to you. In some ways, it was a shock to me also. I never had such an inclination, and had I not begun to sink into sin, I would have happily remained in my flat. I thought my vocation might purge me of my sinful feelings. What feelings? I know you're wondering. The great confession is this: I love you, Albus. I love you as a friend, but even more deeply. I love you the way a man should love his spouse._

_My desire is perverse, and I am ashamed even as I write these lines. There is no hope for me if I don't confess my sins. That knowledge is the only thing that has given me the courage to confess to you. I fear exclusion from Heaven. I fear the displeasure of my God. More greatly than even that, I fear your disgust with me. I am terrorized by the thought of you hating me._

_The doctors who are treating me cannot agree on a diagnosis. I don't need one. I am not dying of an illness, but of a broken heart. I yearn to be near you, Albus. Being parted from you for such a long time has steadily sapped my strength. I don't ask for pity. It is my punishment, and I accept it. I only ask for forgiveness._

_Please, don't tell my sisters. I would not like them to be shamed by the brother they adored and doted on._

_You are the truest friend I have ever known._

_With deepest and most respectful affection,_

_Your friend always,_

_Adam_

Dumbledore gently folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. He rose from his desk and moved to a very old ornately carved chest. In it, were letters from, and pictures of, departed friends and loved ones. He placed Adam's letter with them and closed the chest. Dumbledore poured himself a brandy, sat in a cozy chair in front of the gently flickering fire, and softly wept.


End file.
